But so far, so good. No sign of Maria. No sign of anyone, really. Could I be this lucky? My hand is on the door handle when it swings open, and I almost plow right into my mother.

“What the hell, Raven?” she screams. I guess she’s as startled me.

“I didn’t see you.” I try to go around her, only to be stopped by her claw of a hand.

“Where are you going?” Her eyes take in my appearance. It’s times like this when I wish I had at least inherited her height. Even with my heeled sandals, she looks down at me.

“Out.” I cock my head, daring her to say anything.

“With your boyfriend?” Her eyes swing to the poor Uber driver in his Ford Focus.

“Sure.” I stare at her, then pull my arm free and move toward the car. I can sense her watching me, but she doesn’t stop me again. I slide into the back.

“Where to?” Zander, who has to be in his mid-forties, smiles back at me.

“Take me to the hippiest bar on Sunset Boulevard.” Settling back in the car, I try hard not to second-guess my decision. Cher’s right. I need to do this, take my power back. I almost start laughing because he’s now ruined that word for me, dick.

“Well, I’m a dad of three and I don’t get out much, but I do know a place that a lot of customers go—”

“Perfect,” I interrupt him, because not gonna lie, seeing my bitchy mom has kind of thrown me.

“My son has to start summer school tomorrow…”

I plaster on a smile as I completely tune out the chatty Uber driver. Was that a sign that I shouldn’t do this tonight? Like a bad omen or something? I cross my legs and look out the window, barely even seeing the scenery of Beverly Hills pass me by.

I’ll just do my three-strike rule. Strike one, running into my mom. If I get two more strikes.

Boom. I’m out.

Easy.

There, I feel better already. Always good to have a plan.

“Okay. Here we are, and let me give you my number if you need a ride home. Need to keep food on the table.” He laughs, maneuvering us over as the valet guy instantly opens the door for me.

I quickly give him a fifty-dollar tip, not that I listened to ninety percent of his rambling about his kids. But since my mom pays for my card this month, I smile at the thought of her seeing the credit card statement.

“Thank you,” I say and slide out, looking around. Yep, this is perfect.

“Excuse me.” The valet looks over as he opens the door to the Town Car. “Where’s the bar?”

“All the way to the top.” He smiles.